


A Great Storm in the Sky, the Sun in the North

by daphnerunning



Category: Juuni Kokki | Twelve Kingdoms
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:11:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 17,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/pseuds/daphnerunning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the events of "The Shore in Twilight, the Sky in Daybreak," Taiki and Risai attempt to liberate the Kingdom of Tai. But that may not be as easy as it seems, when traitors style themselves heroes, and the King is nowhere to be found.</p><p>Except for a faint voice in Taiki's mind...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pengiesama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pengiesama/gifts).



_We have to try._

Risai’s presence was a strong, sure weight against his back and his courage, buoying Taiki through the sea of fear that threatened to swamp him. She stood with him and understood what he really meant when he said they had to try.

She understood that nothing that lay ahead could be as bad as going back.

Taiki’s stomach roiled when they flew within a stone’s throw of the coast. He’d been anticipating seeing Tai again since they’d left Kei. It was changed, he knew, but he’d been more at home in that cold and barren country than in all his years in Hourai— _Japan_ , he corrected himself, then wondered why he bothered. No one in Tai would care what he called the place of his birth, for he couldn’t call it his homeland.

Tai was his homeland, and it made him ill to be near it.

“Are you all right?” Risai called over the wind, nearly shouting in his ear.

Taiki nodded, but he wasn’t all right. He could _feel_ the stench of blood, washing over him from the shore. “There’s been fighting here,” he called back. “I don’t know how recently.”

“You smell it? How fresh is it?”

“I can’t tell. The Queen Mother of the West said I might be extra-sensitive to it for a little while, since she cleansed me.”

“That’s right, I forgot. Is it so bad that we can’t land?”

Taiki’s stomach turned over, but he shook his head. Hien’s flanks were heaving, exhausted from flying for so long without a rest. There was no rest over the ocean, of course. One either kept going or one drowned.

With a pang that hurt more than the blood-smell, Taiki remembered his first trip over those waters. He’d been able to transform then. He’d borne his Master on his back, showed everyone who was fit to rule over the Kingdom. He’d been patted, told he’d done well. He could still hear his Lord’s voice, even now. _“_ _You_ _’_ _ve done well, Kouri. Together, we will restore Tai and her people to their former glory._ _”_

Hien touched down on the soil, and they dismounted. Taiki wanted to feel something, but all he felt was the earth under his shoes. _Maybe that part of me is really gone forever. Maybe it_ _’_ _s as they said, and I_ _’_ _m not a ki anymore._

 _That doesn_ _’_ _t matter. I still have to find him. Like Risai said, the people of Tai need us._

He still cared about the people of Tai, at least. He couldn’t tell whether that was his ki nature maintaining a hold over him, or if he was just naturally compassionate to those in need.

“This way, Taiho.”

Holding Hien’s reins with her hand, Risai led the kijuu and Taiki to a dip in the cove, where the sand trickled out to form a narrow pathway. “The last time I was in Tai, a pair of sisters showed me this path. It leads a hidden way up the shoreline, until you get to their cottage.”

She said no more, but Taiki could see the hidden fear in the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. She feared for her friends. Back in Kei, she’d told him about the old man and his granddaughter that had begged her to find him. She hadn’t said so, but Taiki was sure the people in her story had died.

The walk was long, and the winds fierce. Twice, a haunting pressure in the back of his mind told him that there would be one fewer youma bothering them this night; Gouran was eating well. Taiki pulled his borrowed coat—a gift during his brief stint as an official of En—further around his shoulders against the wind.

 _No matter what lies ahead, it would be worse to go back._

His feet ached by the time they arrived at a cozy-looking cottage. Risai motioned for Taiki to stand back, then knocked rapidly.

The man who answered was tall, lean, and rangy. There was an unshaven look to him that Taiki suspected was always there, no matter what time of day. “Yeah? What do you—oh, my Lady. How can your humble servants help you tonight?”

Risai’s smile was tired. “The same thing as last time, Kazushi. If you’ve got a bite to spare and a bare patch of floor, I’ll be a new woman in the morning.”

“Seems a shame, I like the woman you are now. Is your friend coming in?”

“Yes,” Risai said firmly. “He’ll take my patch of floor if you’ve only got one.”

“Nonsense,” another voice said from behind Kazushi. Despite the way people reproduced without shared blood, Taiki could have sworn that the two were cut from the same mold. Kazushi’s brother was nearly identical, except for the fact that his hair was dark green. “Lady, we’ve said before that our home is yours. You can take our beds. Kazu and I will sleep on the floor—or better yet, this will be a perfect time to sleep outside. The night is fair, for this time of year.”

Taiki remembered the biting chill of Tai evenings all too well. Gyousou would order him a hot mug of tea, better than the way his grandmother used to make it, with all the honey Taiki could possibly want. He wished he were there at Hakkei Palace right now, drinking sweet tea and wrapped in one of his Master’s robes.

He was so tired he didn’t even realize he was tired. He swayed on his feet, then blinked when one of the men—the one who wasn’t Kazushi—suddenly grabbed his arms.

“What…why are you doing that?” he asked, blinking heavy eyelids.

“My apologies, sir,” the man apologized. “But you were falling over.”

“Was not,” Taiki mumbled under his breath, but there was little to complain about. His borrowed bed was firm and warm, and he had a spot quite close to the fire. Better yet, he was back in Tai. He could fall asleep dreaming of gemstones and eyes that burned like fire, and no one would fail to believe him. No one would tell him he was insane, or dangerous for “talking like that.” He was home, truly home, and he could stay as long as he wanted.

More accurately, he’d never be able to leave.

He overheard Risai talking to the men, but none of that mattered as he drifted off to sleep.

From far, far away, he thought he heard someone say his name.

 


	2. 2

“Who’s the kid?” Aratsu asked, jerking his head at Taiki.

“A friend.”

“A special friend?”

“Depends on what kind of special you mean. He’s very important to me, obviously.”

“Is he gonna be okay? Poor thing looks fragile as hell.”

“He’s fine.” Risai hoped her voice sounded firmer to the brothers’ ears than to her own. “He just needs some rest. He’s had a hard few days.” Hard few years was more like it, but she didn’t need to go into that now.

Aratsu scratched his head, looking uncomfortably at the slumbering figure in his bed. “Begging your pardon, my lady, but we never thought to see you again. You said you were leaving Tai.”

“I did leave Tai,” she pointed out.

“Yes, but you’re back.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No,” he said hastily, after a warning glance from his brother. “Of course not! It’s only that…I’m not sure how much help we’re going to be to you. Getting out of Tai, sure. We’re near the water, and we could hide your trail for a while. But within Tai itself…”

“Within Tai itself what?” Risai snapped. She was tired, the stump of her arm ached, and she’d been watching her manners around Emperors and gods for weeks.

“What are you going to be able to accomplish?” Aratsu finished plaintively.

It was the question she’d asked herself, the question the Queen Mother of the West had asked, and unfortunately, the question to which she had no answer. She’d known what she was coming back to. Asen had seized control of every branch of the government, the people were dying or enslaved, the land withered, and the few that remained loyal were probably either dead or in hiding. She spared a quick prayer for Kaei’s safety, as she did at least twice a day.

 _Anything is better than going back._

“We have to get to Bun province,” she said at last, making up her mind. “That’s where our most likely lead came from.”

“Lead? What kind of lead?” Kazuzhi asked eagerly.

Risai started to tell him about the bloody belt that had wound up in the shipment to Han, then stopped. He and Aratsu were good people, she’d swear to it. She’d sworn the same about a lot of good people who had betrayed her and her king in the last few years. “That’s not important right now. Do you know of a way for us to get there?”

“Can’t you fly on your tenba?”

“He’s exhausted. They don’t like to carry two, not for long periods like that. It’ll be a while before he’s up to another journey like that.”

Aratsu shook his head slowly. “Then your best bet is probably one of the caravans. The King is still allowing some trade car—“

“ _Not_  the King.” Risai’s voice flashed like steel, slicing through the man’s sentence.

He flinched at her tone. “Y-yes, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course not the King, not the  _real_  King. The Imposter, I meant. He still lets some trade caravans travel the Southern and Western roads. Not often, and not large, but they still go.”

“Carrying?”

“Gems, mostly. Taxes.”

“What does he need gems for? Are other kingdoms willing to trade with him? I know En and Kei and Han aren’t.”

She cursed her loose tongue as she saw the look of intrigued surprise pass between the two brothers. It had been so good to be among friends, even new ones, in an environment that wasn’t immediately hostile. It had dulled her wits, she saw now. There was no one she could trust, except Taiki. The brothers certainly didn’t need to know that she was speaking with exalted personages in at least three other Kingdoms. If they turned traitor—or worse, were tortured into betraying her—things could get out of hand very quickly.

A small part of her wondered whether that was a good thing. An Emperor wasn’t allowed to attack another Kingdom, no matter what. If Asen discovered that Kei had been aiding the fight against him, he might be foolish enough to take Tai’s Royal Army into Kei. Tentei might strike him down.

But then again, Asen was no king. He’d broken all the laws that had to be obeyed by every King, and Tentei had seen fit to leave him on his borrowed throne.  _Gods_ , Risai thought bitterly.  _Only around when they want you, not the other way around._

“These caravans,” she mused aloud. “Do they hire on for passengers?”

“Of course. But…”

“What?”

“You’ll be noticed,” his brother chimed in. “Passengers are questioned closely, especially if they get anywhere near the capital. The—the Imposter says there’s no reason for anyone to be traveling. You’d have to produce a pretty compelling reason.”

Frustration welled up inside her. She hadn’t come this far only to be thwarted again. For a moment she was tempted to risk Hien’s health and have him fly to Bun province.

As if he sensed her thoughts, Hien raised his head, his wings readjusting themselves. They were quivering, and he hadn’t stopped sweating yet. They could possibly risk traveling on land, but with all the youma around, even Gouran would have difficulty keeping them safe.

There was also the possibility that she would die. Gouran had to prioritize Taiki’s safety over every other consideration, and Risai would lay down her life for her Taiho without a second’s hesitation. If that happened, which wasn’t unlikely, she wanted Taiki to be around other people.

“Do they ever need guards?”

“Of course, Lady. But…”

“Not me, of course. Obviously I won’t be much good.” The admission stabbed at her pride, but she had to be practical, for the sake of all Tai.

She smiled wanly. “I don’t suppose you know any unscrupulous caravan drivers?”

“I know a few caravan drivers. One and the same, as far as I’ve ever seen.”

Risai ran a finger over the pouch in her pocket, the one she knew was a smaller cousin of the one Taiki wore. It wasn’t the way she wanted to move about, but they had to keep moving.

Anything was better than going back.


	3. 3

“Him? A guard?”

The Caravan driver looked Taiki up and down, a speculative frown creasing his forehead. “Doesn’t look strong enough to fight off even a kiyju.”

“He’s plenty strong,” Risai assured him. “You wouldn’t have to give him the most dangerous post. Put him in the back, and free up your best men for the front.” She shifted deliberately, letting the coins in her small purse clink against each other in a very noisy way.

The man’s eyes sharpened. “Not a chance,” he said, staring greedily at her pocket.

Not until I offer you something to sweeten the deal, hmm? Risai hated the corruption in the system. Back when Gyousou was running the country, Caravan runners had all the integrity of a federal service, as they carried mail and passengers and important goods from one corner of Tai to another. Yet something else that had changed, she noted with a sigh. Just once, she would have liked to see a good change.

“He’ll work for half-pay.”

“Can’t trust just anyone.”

“He’ll work for free, minus food.”

Apparently food was scarce enough that the offer wasn’t strange, since the driver only hesitated a second before saying, “Fine.”

“And that should pay for my buy-in.”

“Your…”

“You are still accepting new members, yes? Safety in numbers and all that?”

“Sure. You got papers?”

She saw his eyes widen at the papers she passed over; false and no hiding it, not when she’d whipped them together from the available paper in the brothers’ house in twelve minutes, but weighted with a small clinking bag. It was risky and stupid, saying as clearly as daylight that neither of them were to be trusted, and Risai was dead sure the driver would sell them out the second he figured out how to turn a profit from it.

For now, at least, his greed overrode his caution. He jerked his head and handed back the false papers. “Fine. Ride with number four. The boy stays at the back. He got a sword?”

“Yes.” It was hers, the one her father had given her when she joined the provincial army, and she felt positively naked without it. Even one-armed she could wield it better than Taiki, and she itched to have it strapped to her waist, but she had no choice.

She expected Taiki to look terrified. He’d never handled a weapon in his life, after all. More than that, he was in the middle of battle-hardened men and women, alone, without Risai to look after him. As the caravans rolled out on the Northern Road, she cast a glance back at the end of the train.

He was still, eyes focused intently ahead, absolutely expressionless. His feet moved, carrying him forward in easy pace with the rest of the caravan, but his face might have been carved of alabaster. His chin was set firmly, eyes dark and sad, and for a moment he looked far older than his seventeen years.

The laughing child she’d known was truly gone. Even if they somehow succeeded, if they surpassed even Risai’s wildest dreams, Taiki would never find the peace he had enjoyed in that precious year. She was sure of that.

Her missing arm hurt, and she burned with the desire to clench and unclench her fingers. It wouldn’t do any good. There was no getting back what they’d lost, any of them.

Risai’s eyes burned, and she stopped looking back.


	4. Chapter 4

Taiki stared his way through the first inspection. They were stopped by the border guards of Jun Province, twenty hard-looking people who smelled so strongly of blood that Taiki almost fainted.  _Can_ _’_ _t. Have to stay awake. If I faint they_ _’_ _ll know something_ _’_ _s wrong._

It had gotten so easy, over the past few years, to just stand and stare. When a policeman asked where he’d been—and oh, the memory  _ached_  when he thought of all the time he’d forgotten about his Lord—he’d stared straight ahead and mumbled that he didn’t know. When his mother forced him to eat meat, even when he gagged and retched, he retaliated by staring into the distance, trying to remember a time that was  _better_.

The border guards paid him little attention, preferring to focus on examining the contents of the wagons. He saw handfuls of gems disappearing in the guards’ hands, and felt nearly as sick at that as at the stench of blood.

Sanshi stroked his calf, but he twitched in denial.  _Not now,_ he thought in her direction.  _It_ _’_ _s important that no one sees either of you._

He saw Risai answering questions, though he was too far away to hear the words. Whatever she said must not have been very convincing, because he saw her bribe that guard as well.

Oh, well. At least Enki had given them plenty, as his “severance pay.”

“No, please, whatever you want—I swear, I can pay! Just wait until I get home—you’ll have it all, and more, but please let me go!”

“You call this a fair tax?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know they’d been changed again—“

The hard smack of flesh on flesh made Taiki wince.

“Cur! You seek to take advantage of your King’s laws?”

 _Not the King_. The thought blazed in Taiki’s mind, so hard his forehead felt tight, itchy. He resisted the urge to scratch by a thin margin.

The man was on his knees. He wore fine blue robes; Taiki had seen him mending them in secret every night, boasting about the prowess of his tailors during the day. A man who had fallen on hard times and couldn’t accept it, he thought with pity.

Two guards went through his pockets, his purse, his belongings. “This is all you bring to your King? Pathetic! If you can’t pay the proper tax, you’ll see what kind of mercy you’ll get here.”

“Please don’t,” Taiki whispered, quiet enough that no one could hear.

“Kneel.”

“But—“

One of the guards kicked the man in the back, and he fell to the ground. The other unsheathed her blade, an ugly little smile on her face.

Taiki didn’t even realize he’d started to move, or that he was muttering “No, no, no,” under his breath.

The sword came up.

He started to shout.

A calloused hand closed over his mouth, dragging him awkwardly to the side. Risai held him as hard as she could, flush against her body as the sword came down, and the coppery tang of blood blossomed in his nose.

“You can’t,” she breathed into his ear, even as he struggled to free himself. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be in Tai.  _He_ was supposed to keep it from being this way.  _His_  fault.  _His_  failure.

“They’d only hurt you, too.”

Gouran would protect him.

“There are too many of them.”

They all worked for the traitor, the usurper. They all carried out orders like this, might even enjoy them.

Hot tears spilled out of his eyes, over Risai’s hand. Slowly, she released him. “There’s nothing you can do, Taiki.”

“Don’t call me that.” His voice was harsh, but quiet. “I don’t deserve to be called Taiki. A true kirin of Tai wouldn’t have let that happen.”

He saw the heartbreak on her face. It just made him feel worse. She had risked life, lost limb in her quest to find him, to make Tai right again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t be. I know you don’t mean it.”

He trudged back to his place in the caravan, stomach churning. He didn’t have the heart to tell her he wasn’t apologizing for what he’d said.  _I_ _’_ _m sorry I_ _’_ _m so useless. I_ _’_ _m sorry I didn_ _’_ _t just die, so Tai could grow a proper kirin this time._

 _ I ' m sorry you believed in me. _


	5. Chapter 5

They stayed with the caravan for two weeks, traveling slow, but steady. He was never surprised by the presence of Youma; Gouran sensed them before they were too close, leaving Taiki time to go on his break, or make certain he was at the other end of the caravan when danger struck. Youma only struck in force three times, leaving behind what the driver referred to as “minimal losses.”

From the glassy gravel of the Southern lowlands to the packed stone of the highlands, Taiki trudged along after the caravan. With every step, he couldn’t help the growing sense of unease that they were getting closer to the capital.

What then?

Even if Taiki had been any good with the sword around his waist, he couldn’t kill anyone. He could far more easily kill himself. Even if Risai could somehow face Asen head-on, she would lose. He knew. He had known Asen pretty well before the betrayal, and had seen him training with the soldiers. Maybe if Risai had been in peak health she could have given him a fight, but not now. Not with a missing arm and her whole balance thrown off. Even if, by some miracle, she could prevail, what then?

They had no true king to put on the throne. He wanted to find Gyousou, but how? Every time the caravan stopped near a town, Risai sought him out. “Did you feel anything?” she asked anxiously. “Can you sense the Ouki?”

Every time, he shook his head. “I can’t feel him.”

Risai sighed, hand twitching as if she wanted to pat him, but stopped herself. It was a shame. Being back in Tai made him miss the nyousen, the first people who had dared to put their arms around him and hold him close. He had Sanshi at night again, at least.

“At least we know one more place he isn’t,” Risai said, trying to sound positive.

“Do we?” he asked. His eyes scanned the horizon, the gyouku gem fountains frozen in the chill winds.

“If you can’t feel him—“

“All that proves is that I can’t feel him. You heard what King Han said.” Taiki swallowed hard, around a lump in his throat. “I’m not really a ki any longer. I might not be able to feel him, even if he is here.”

He felt the longing then, studying every face, praying with every breath that he’d see tanned skin, iron-gray hair, and fierce red eyes. He’d been so cold for so long; he missed the warmth of being near his Lord.

“I don’t believe that. You’re still  _you_ , Taiki. You’re still a kirin, no matter what they did to you.”

His hand went automatically to his forehead. He couldn’t really remember the days he’d spent with Queen Mother of the West, on the top of Mount Hou as she cleansed him. She’d touched his forehead, drawn out the sick dark red infections that had clustered there, that had sunk deep into his pores. There had been chanting, oils and sweet waters, darkness that he could see perfectly, brightness that didn’t hurt his eyes. For the first time in years, he’d taken a breath that didn’t feel tainted. For the first time in years, he’d truly understood what he’d lost.

Risai’s hand did move to his head then, just for a moment. She brushed her fingers through his hair, smiling faintly. “Still doesn’t feel like a human’s hair. And you couldn’t help yourself when the guards executed that man.”

 _That wasn_ _’_ _t my kirin self,_  Taiki wanted to protest.  _That was just natural compassion._

Then again, he’d never been the best about telling what was his kirin self and what was his personality. He was pretty much legendary for it.

Once, the thought would have made him smile.

“The King!” The shout came from a runner, dusty brown all over despite running on the slippery rocks of the Southern Road. His calls, hoarse with exhaustion, echoed around the jeweled valley. “The King, and his entorage!”

“The King is coming!”

“Get ready!”

The caravan exploded into a flurry of activity, guards brushing off their uniforms, men and women checking to make sure their cargo was properly stored, making sure that any children were bundled out of sight.

Risai grabbed Taiki’s arm, yanking him behind an outcropping of obsidian-dark crystal just before he heard the hoofbeats. “We’ve got to get away,” she hissed.

“But—the King—“

“They mean Asen!”

Taiki’s heart sank. Of course they did. That traitor had looked into his eyes and lied, told him Gyousou needed Gouran and Shanshi, had turned on him as if he were simply swatting a fly.

Hien came trotting around the corner at his mistress’s whistle, looking only a little the worse for his recent wear. He bore the weight of both without complaint, breaking into a soft-footed scramble between rocks.

They didn’t turn back, leaving the caravan behind without a second thought, heading into the wilds of youma-infested Tai.

Around one corner, Taiki caught a glimpse of Asen’s entourage. It was large, colorful where his master’s had been stark, garish where Gyousou had been elegant. If he squinted, he could just catch sight of the robes of state, adorning false shoulders that paled in comparison to the ones they should have adorned.

Suddenly, everything made sense, many years too late. Taiki remembered the pounding of his heart when he’d kneeled to Gyousou, the fear that he was doing wrong. That had felt hot, tingling, prickling him all over with the sensation of impending  _change_.

Asen in the King’s robes was  _wrong_. Taiki wondered for a sick moment about what it would be like to kneel to such a man, and his skin crawled.

Sanshi nuzzled against his hand, as if sensing his discomfort.

“I’m all right,” he answered her unspoken question. He was surprised to hear his voice come out low and hard. He turned resolutely away from the caravan, following Risai into the wilderness.


	6. Chapter 6

Risai, at least, had thought ahead. Every time Taiki was hungry, she produced another piece of bread or fruit from her pack. They grew increasingly more stale and overripe as they traveled, but it was enough to keep his stomach in decent shape. She confessed that she’d been stashing away everything without meat for the entire time they were with the caravan, just in case they had to split off at some point.

At least they weren’t pressed for water. Springs were plentiful in Jou Province, with clear cold water burbling out of the ground every few miles. They drank eagerly at each one, filling their bellies so they wouldn’t thirst as much between springs.

After eight days of sore feet and grumbling bellies, Risai spotted a village. “We’ll stop there for the night,” she said.

Taiki couldn’t stop his pulse from quickening, as it did every time he was close to people. He was in Tai. Gyousou  _had_  to be in Tai, or he’d have come down with shitsudou by now…unless he really was no longer a kirin.

It was near twilight when they knocked on the first door. There were lanterns burning away inside, but no one answered the door. “Is anyone there?” he called.

“They probably don’t want to open up to strangers,” Risai said quietly. “Let’s try again.”

They tried another house. This one contained people who were talking to each other, but who stopped abruptly when they heard the knock. They, too, declined to answer the door.

The third house was the same, as was the fourth. At the fifth, a young woman opened the door. “Yes?” she asked, though her tone and eyes were wary.

“Excuse me, we’re just looking for a place to stay the night.” Risai was all weary charm, affable smiles from a countrywoman. “My family’s in Brikai, but we can’t travel that far tonight. Could you spare some room on the floor?”

The woman looked Risai up and down, then did the same to Taiki. “Just the two of you?”

“And a tenba, but I can tether him outside. He doesn’t mind, and he won’t chase your livestock.”

“Fifty.”

Taiki balked at the idea, but Risai handed over the money. The girl was brisk, but friendly. She introduced herself as Kiya, and gave up her bed to the two travelers.

Risai fell asleep almost instantly, but Taiki didn’t. He waited.

He waited until Risai’s breath evened out, and all the lights in the town were extinguished. He waited until Kiya rose from the floor, padding barefoot to the door.

“Gouran,” he whispered.

The Toutetsu’s eyes flashed yellow in the darkness, suddenly between Kiya and the door. She squeaked, clapping her hands over her mouth.

Taiki sat up, and met her gaze calmly when she turned. “I—I’m sorry, but you—“

“Do you know who I am?”

Kiya shook her head, eyes wide as saucers. “I—the messenger birds said that there were two fugitives, a dark-haired boy and a one-armed woman. There’s a reward.”

“When?”

“When you’re delivered to the King’s men.”

 _Not the King_ , the sick feeling in Taiki’s stomach reminded him. “I meant, when did you get word that we were in the area?”

She handed over a crumpled piece of paper wordlessly. From what he could make out in the dim light, the reward had only been issued a few days previous. The day after he and Risai had left the caravan, in fact.

He’d known it would look suspicious, leaving as they had, but staying would have been worse. He had no idea what he’d do if confronted with Asen.

Then he saw the reward. He goggled, looking up in shock. “Is this real? Asen is offering registry as a sen-nin for someone who delivers us both?”

“That’s what it says. Please, sir, I didn’t mean you any harm. But I want to live until Tai’s a good place again, and that’s not in any human’s lifetime.”

“It could be.”

“Not likely. Not with the Taiho gone and the real King dead.”

“He’s not dead.” Taiki’s voice could have been steel, for all the warmth and kindness in it. “Don’t say that or think it. He’s not dead.”

“But King Asen said—“

“And please don’t call him that.” He didn’t like ordering people around, but the girl didn’t know what she was talking about. “King Gyousou is alive, and in Tai.”

“In Tai?”

“If he were not in Tai, his kirin would have suffered shitsudou, wouldn’t he? And Taiki would have died,” he said, speaking about it as though he weren’t talking about himself. Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was talking about the little boy that had bowed to a great general, not the hornless human on a hopeless quest.

“Maybe Taiki is dead.”

Taiki paused, but shook his head. “There would be a new ranka on the Shashinboku at Mount Hou. There isn’t.”

“How do you know?”

He’d been waiting for her to ask. Nature and what he’d been told on Mount Hou warred with the cynical instincts of his family in Japan. He could hear his grandmother cackling that anyone who gave you help for no reason was taking the reason out of your hide later. But he  _felt_  like he could trust the girl, at least with this. Once upon a time, it had felt good to trust the people of Tai. They hadn’t let him down; he’d let them down.

“Because I’m Taiki.”

The girl stared at him for a moment, evidently deciding whether he was telling the truth. Then, she swallowed a gasp and fell to her knees. “M-my lord Taiho, your humble servant apologizes. If I’d had the slightest idea—“

“Please,” Taiki said, still quiet, though Risai’s heavy breathing hadn’t changed. “You don’t have to bow.”

“But if the people knew that it was you the King was seeking, surely they—“

She fell silent at the look on Taiki’s face. “Not the King,” she corrected herself hurriedly. “Lord Asen, then. Why would he offer such a bounty on your capture, Lord?”

“Because he’s not the King,” Taiki said simply. “I’m the only person who can truly prove that. I don’t know if the people would still believe me…”

“Of course we would!” When Kiya looked up, her cheeks were streaked with tears. “We’ve prayed for your return for years. To have you back, safe and whole, is more than we could ever have dreamed.”

 _But I_ _’_ _m not whole. I_ _’_ _m not the Taiki you need. I_ _’_ _m just me._  He couldn’t say any of that, though. The people needed something to believe. He could be that, at least. “Will you help us out of the village without attracting attention?”

Kiya worried at her bottom lip. “Yes, Lord, if that’s your wish. But I think you should see Yousan first.”

“Yousan? Who’s that?”

“A man who lives just outside of town, along the Eastern hill. He’s….unusual. But I think he’ll be able to help you on your way.”

“And you?” Taiki asked, trying not to put any judgment into the words. “Will you help us on our way? Or are you going to turn us in once we leave?”

Once, he would have trusted any subject of Tai.

Even though she swore her loyalty, begged his forgiveness on her knees, Taiki couldn’t help from twitching at every noise that night.


	7. Chapter 7

In the morning, Risai took the time to clean her gear in the well, sharpen “Taki’s” sword, and rinse out her hair. It shone as she shook it out, but she fastened it securely under a scarf. “You should do the same, Taiho. That way we won’t be recognized.”

“The other Taihos only cover their hair because of its color,” Taiki pointed out. “Mine doesn’t stand out. You can’t tell from far away that it’s a mane.”

“Not for the color,” Risai said with a half-smile, handing him another scarf. “The length. No one here wears their hair that short.”

Taiki blushed a little. Again, he’d forgotten. He was always learning too late, just a little too late, what he  _should_  have done. When they approached the fork in the road, Taiki opened his mouth to suggest that they go east—

Just as Risai started walking that way. “Yousan’s house is on the hill, right?”

Taiki fell into step with her, smiling to himself. Perhaps the two of them wouldn’t be such easy prey after all.

*

Yousan’s home was easy to find. No one else, apparently, even built a house on that particular hill. The one standing did so under extreme provocation from the elements; obviously, it had faced down more than one mudslide, and an earthquake or two had split it down one side. Swaying precariously on stilts, Taiki thought it likely that the only natural disaster the house  _hadn_ _’_ _t_  faced was flooding.

The stairway to the front door took them ten minutes to climb, but Taiki noted that neither of them were at all winded by the end. Several weeks of hiking over rough terrain had been good for them physically, if not emotionally. Taiki looked around for a doorbell, and Risai knocked sharply on the faded purple door.

A man answered the door, stately, bearded, elderly, in the finest clothing Taiki had seen outside of the Palace. “Yes?” he intoned quietly, staring down at them.

Taiki looked up into his face, searching for a clue as to whether it was all right to hope for help. “Are you Mr. Yousan?”

“Who requires Yousan at such a time of the day?”

Taiki shot a confused glance at the sky. Yes, it was no later than nine in the morning. “We seek someone who is loyal to the true King and Kirin of Tai.”

“Yousan is a friend of Tai, her ruler, and her kirin,” the man responded, and bowed. “If you are indeed a friend of them as well, you and Yousan will get along fine.”

Risai caught his eye, and Taiki gave her a tiny shrug. How was he supposed to know if the man was Yousan or not? He didn’t think he was  _lying_ , specifically, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t stretching some odd kind of truth. He cleared his throat. “We are here to seek aid of movement on behalf of the Saiho of Tai.”

The man’s leathery face changed at once, into a child’s earnest expression. “Have you seen Taiki? Is he alive? Is he near to Tai?” Even his voice changed, from a dignified drawl to the impatient yammerings of a boy no more than twelve. “Don’t tease an old man, boy. You’ve no idea how long it’s been since we in Tai have had any hope.”

No, Taiki thought. He hadn’t. Tai had been greatly suffering before he was born, long before he’d ever visited “his” land. “I don’t know if there’s anything to be done for Tai right now,” he said honestly, “but I do know that the Saiho will need all the help he can get.”

If Yousan could speak of himself in such a distant way, so could he.

The man beamed, young and earnest. “What sort of help do you require? Are you searching for Taiki? If you are, I can help. I’ve something of a sense for telling where a kirin is.”

Taiki blinked. “You do?”

“Oh, yes. I can smell them out. Let me just get my things, and we’ll be off!”

Risai touched Taiki’s arm the moment the old man disappeared. “Are you certain about bringing him along with us? He doesn’t seem quite right.”

“He seems all right to me,” Taiki said, craning his neck to see what was inside the house. Little balls of metal whirled around a spindly ivory stick on one table; another held a shallow bowl that was slowly overflowing with fog. Everything was done up in bright colors—far too bright, for anyone that had respect for the eyes of others. Taiki had never considered himself much of an expert on fashion. He’d never cared less what he wore, except that he liked to be decently clothed when in his human form. But even he could see that none of the items of clothing haphazardly strewn around the house went together in any way, shape, or form.

The old man appeared again after a few moments, carrying what looked like a hatbox. “This will do,” he said decisively. “Let’s go. I can smell him already.”

“Mr. Yousan?” Taiki asked, still not sure whom he was addressing.

The old man took no notice. Instead, he sniffed the air with his long nose, looked right at Taiki, then pointed north to a narrow gap between two mountains. “There! That’s where Taiki’s scent is coming from!”

Risai gave Taiki a look, trying to contain a smirk. “Are you sure, old man? Your nose must be a bit out of practice. Or have you ever actually sniffed out a kirin before?”

The man took no heed of her either, setting off along the road. Taiki was torn between being glad of more company, and feeling preemptive guilt about what could happen to the old man on the road. It wasn’t exactly safe, and they hadn’t had the best of luck so far.

Then again, living in the sort of house he did, apparently Yousan could handle a bit of misfortune every now and then. Tentei knew they needed his sort of resilience.

The sword strapped at his waist smelled of blood, even after a hundred washings. Taiki tried to ignore it as he walked off after the old man, just as he tried to ignore the conviction that they’d have to wash the sword a lot more before long, because the road ahead didn’t smell much better.


	8. Chapter 8

The Northern Road wasn’t the only way leading up to Hekkai Palace, but it was the fastest, most direct, least dangerous way. At least, that was what Risai had thought. According to Yousan, however, she was sadly misinformed.

“A lot of people don’t understand rocks,” he said mournfully over supper one evening. He’d at least proved a dab hand at recognizing local plant life, easily sorting out which roots they found were harmless. And he was a sen-nin, which mean that they didn’t have to worry much about feeding him. Just as before, the vast majority of the goods went to Taiki, though he protested.

“Rocks can be useful, quite useful,” Yousan informed her, talking again even though she hadn’t encouraged him. “For example, you’re sitting on a slab of ipeko. That has interesting properties, and it’s littered all around this road.”

“Oh? Properties like what? We used to have an ipeko mine where I’m from, and they never did anything interesting with it.”

“No, it’s mainly used to pave the roads here in Tai. But elsewhere—oh, my. Down in Shun, they use it to enhance the speed of beasts.”

“They do?” Risai asked, startled.

“Yes, indeed! Many species of kiyju run much faster on ipeko. Their hooves sharpen as if they’re made of razors, and they slice through the air itself. Have I ever told you about why you should always sleep with your head facing the sea?”

“No,” Taiki said, good-natured amusement on his features. He was far more tolerant of Yousan’s oddities and quirks than Risai. Somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all an act, that somehow he was going to turn out to be brilliant and cruel. It wouldn’t be the first time they were betrayed by someone called “friend,” after all.

He talked constantly, something else that grated on her nerves. How was she supposed to hear what was happening if the old man was constantly chatting about nothing at all? None of what he said made any sense, and he was getting them into deeper peril every time he opened his mouth.

But Risai couldn’t tell him to stop, not when Taiki was so pleased to have the man along. Though she knew she should be glad someone was keeping Taiki’s mind off other things, she couldn’t help but feel put out. She’d risked life and limb, given up everything, even her arm, in order to get Taiki back to Tai.

The road grew steep once again, slabs of ipeko slipping and sliding against each other underneath their feet as they clambered up the mountain slope. Sure-footed Hien bore all the packs, wings fluttering wildly whenever they reached an area that crumbled too fast under his feet.

“This is good luck,” Yousan proclaimed, pointing at a broken slab of rock. “When there’s pink inside an East-facing rock, that means a black kirin can’t be far away. Besides, I can smell him!”

Taiki grinned. “You know, I think I’m starting to believe in the power of your nose, sir.”

“As well you should, my boy. I think it’s quite heartening to see people your age respecting their elders. Not that I’m much older than you, but you take my meaning.”

“Of course. I know very—“ Taiki suddenly shot backward, his foot slipping on a dislodged piece of rock, sending him sliding several feet down the hill. Risai tried to grab for him, but her balance was off, and she had no leverage in any case. Taiki tumbled down the side of the mountain, only stopping when he grabbed a protruding boulder and held onto it with all his strength.

“Stay where you are,” he called to Risai and Yousan. “I’m fine. I just got a little bruised up. I’ll be back up there in a moment.”

Risai could almost feel him struggling. The steep, slippery mountain slope would have presented no difficulty whatsoever to Taiki in his true form, his kirin form. It would have just been so many steps beneath his silver hooves. She could almost see his kirin form now, standing at the top of the vista, mane and tail ruffled in the breeze.

What would he look like now, in his kirin form? His mane would be shorter, and he’d be taller, less awkwardly lanky. If it were possible, Risai was sure he’d be even more magnificent.

As Taiki made his slow, deliberate way back up the mountain, Risai fought a silent war with herself. Part of her wanted to beg Tentei on her knees to see Taiki’s kirin form, just one last time before she died. The larger part of her soul wasn’t finished raging and cursing at the most important god yet, not even enough to let go a single prayer. Eventually, she just clenched her teeth and hoped that everyone who mattered knew what she was thinking.

  
 _Just once more. I only need to see that once more, before I die. Just let me know that I did something good, that I saved him in time. Let me know that it_ 's  _truly Taiki, not Takasato Kaname that I pulled from his life in Hourai._

 _ Just give me that, and I' ll be grateful.   
_

Not pleased, or happy, or satisfied; those would only come when Asen had been hurled into a volcano and Gyousou and Taiki ruled the Kingdom once more, side by side at the capital.

But for one more sight of Taiki’s true form, gracing Tai with that beacon of hope in the darkest of times…

That would be enough for gratitude.


	9. Chapter 9

Taiki lay awake, pain stabbing through him. He’d smacked hard against several large rocks on his way down, and the remaining climb to the top of the mountain hadn’t improved the pain. Neither had his own sense of helplessness, slowing down the rescue effort when he should be  _flying_  up the mountain under his own power. He knew Risai knew it, as well. He could see the looks she gave him. They were just like the ones the nyousen had first given him on Mount Hou, after he confessed that he had no idea how to turn into a kirin.

Except back then, he didn’t know what was wrong. Now he knew, and that didn’t help in the slightest. He couldn’t just re-grow his horn. He wanted that so badly that if wanting could mae it so, it would have been the truth long ago.

His knee pounded with agony, and Taiki gritted his teeth. The worst part about his injury, though he couldn’t share such information with Risai, was that it was his fault. He’d lost his concentration. For a moment, just a moment, he’d been sure he heard his master’s voice, calling to him from a dark, faraway place.

He’d faltered, his foot turning a sliver of an inch towards the voice, because he  _had_ to obey his master’s voice,  _had_  to come when his master called. He’d broken that promise for six years, with disastrous results. He wasn’t ever going to break it again.

But then he’d fallen, and the voice had been gone. Perhaps it was something in the wind, sighing mournfully through jagged peaks of crystal all around.

He closed his eyes, determined to sleep despite the pain.

 _Kouri._

The voice was faint, hardly there, but Taiki heard it nonetheless. He shot up from his bedroll, bitter wind biting into his skin, his hair, his eyes as he scanned the horizon.

“Master?” he whispered, and the wind ripped the words from his lips.

 _Kouri._

Just that word, just the one word, but Taiki knew it for the summons it was. _Come to me_ , that word said. _I, your Lord, command you. I, who named you, who hold the strings of your soul, who serve you all my life as surely as you do for yours, summon you._

 _Come to me._

Taiki was scrambling over the mountainside, leaving the plateau behind before he’d made a conscious decision to do so. Part of his waking brain told him to go back to camp, at least wake Risai and tell her where he was going, but his soul was telling him there was  _no time_.

He half-ran, half-crawled up the rest of the mountain, paying no attention to the cuts in his hands, the bruises on his knees. His heart told him he had to  _go_ , had to go  _now_.

Blinding pain shot through his forehead, and he fell to his knees, clapping his hands over his face. It felt as if someone was driving a knife into him, and he gasped, ragged breathing all he could do until the throbbing pain subsided.

It went away after a few moments, and Taiki climbed unsteadily back to his feet. His vision swam with the aftershocks of the pain, and he shook his head to try and clear it. He strained, trying to hear that voice again on the southern wind, trying to hear his  _real_  name just one more time.

“Taiki? What are you doing up here?” Risai asked, sword in hand, looking warily around. She’d apparently climbed up after him, leaving her sleep behind without a moment’s hesitation. “Is there something wrong? Do you sense danger?”

“No,” Taiki said, swallowing around a lump in his throat. “I don’t sense anything.”

The wind was silent.


	10. Chapter 10

A hand grabbed Risai’s shoulder in the middle of the night, waking her without a word. Her left shoulder—that was the sign to wake quietly, because of danger. “What is it?” she whispered.

Taiki was already awake, blinking sleep out of his eyes. Yousan’s bony hand was closed over her shoulder, one finger to his lips. “Youma. Not ordinary youma, either. Led by someone.”

“Led? How is that--”

He gestured again--no speaking, just moving. For a second, Risai balked at following his orders. He was just a madman they picked up, after all. He certainly wasn’t anyone they could trust with Taiki’s safety. That was all she had left, all she could do, and damned if being too trusting was going to endanger him again.

Then she saw the youma, and swore at how fast they were moving. Worse still, they were coming from the North, right along the road, headed directly for them. The only way out was down the mountain the way they’d already come. “Taiki,” she said, making up her mind quickly, “Take Hien. Go.” She shouldered the packs on the Tenba, whispering the commands that would make him docile.

“But—“

“No buts, Taiho. You’re far too important to Tai.” She could hear the youma now as well as see them, Nijiuu, a ground-running youma with immense pale eyes and hooked claws.

Risai rotated her arm a few times, limbering it up. If she was going to go down, then by Tentei she’d make a stand of it.

Surprisingly, Yousan didn’t seem terribly concerned. He pulled a ball of some sort of powder from his pocket, then started walking to and fro, singing under his breath in that odd little-boy voice of his.

“Risai, we should stick together,” Taiki said, worried. “I can’t leave you and him alone with—“

Risai barked a command at Hien, and he rose into the air despite Taiki’s protests. He’d have to stop for food and water soon, but he’d be making good time until then. Risai watched him fade into the distance, heart aching at losing him again.

“You don’t have to be here,” she said to Yousan, who dusted off his hands. “You could go back to your home. You don’t have to die here with me.”

He beamed. “What better place to find a kirin than a battle?”

 _Anywhere_ , Risai thought, confused.

“Don’t worry,” he assured her, contorting his body into an odd stance. “I’m something of a great wizard among my people. You’ll be quite safe with me.”

“Oh. Good.”

The Nijiuu charged, the ones in front leaping out at Risai. She readied her stance, but even on a good day with two working arms she’d only be able to take down two,  _maybe_  three of the creatures.

The first one leaped for Risai—then slammed into an invisible wall, followed immediately by the four or five Nijiuu behind it. It looked as surprised as Risai felt, and a lot more bruised.

“That won’t last them long,” Yousan said, every inch the old man. “The creatures will break through eventually, as all magic fades.”

“But—they just stopped—“

He drew himself up to his full lofty height. “My girl, did I not tell you that I’m the greatest wizard of my people?”

“Ah…you did.”

“Then you already knew of my prowess. Come along, step lively, you haven’t lost your leg. We’ll have to go around several miles before we get onto the Northern trail again, and the Nijiuu will discover their freedom within a few hours.  Once they do, they’ll have our scent for life.”

“Like you have Taiki’s?” Risai asked sharply. The wall of magic was all very well, and she was rather grateful she hadn’t been a Youma’s dinner. Still, she couldn’t help but mock the old man, or she’d start wondering if he was just as stupid as he pretended to be. Really, she’d referred to Taiki as “Taiho” or “Taiki” many times that the man had been close. Either he was truly mad, or he had a reason for concealing his knowledge.

As if he’d read her mind, the man gave a maddening little smile. “My dear, a scent is not only in the nose. Otherwise everyone would find it. Come along, then, and hurry!”

One of the Nijiuu threw itself at the barrier, which crackled and sizzled. Cursing her lack of options, Risai followed Yousan off the trail and onto the dark slide of rock.


	11. Chapter 11

Taiki crouched low over Hien’s neck, holding tightly to his fur. He flew as high as he dared, but the air above the mountains was cold enough as it was, without adding altitude into the mix.

His eyes streamed water in the chill, and his teeth chattered. The only thing keeping his fingers from going numb in Hien’s fur was Hien’s body heat. He tried to look back for Risai and Yousan, but they were too far away. He could see nothing, nothing but the shining, blood-soaked land of Tai.

He fell asleep on Hien’s back, worrying about Risai, worrying about his master, worrying about his beloved country. He was supposed to stand for the people. Was what he was doing truly helping? Did it really help to have him flying about on Hien, looking for his master?

He dozed off and on, fitfully, anxious. Hien had rested well over the last few weeks, and could easily carry Taiki’s scant weight all night without a stop. By the time the sun crested the mountain peaks, however, his course started to veer with the wind.

If it hadn’t, he’d have taken an arrow straight into the heart.

Another arrow shot by Taiki, and his hands fisted in Hien’s mane. He knew a couple of the basic commands to give a kiyju, but he’d certainly never practiced for anything like this.

Risai had.

Hien knew what he was doing, folding his wings into a dive, flying screeching in another direction from the arrows. Taiki cried out, unused to moving at such a speed, and nearly fell off the kiyju’s back. He couldn’t see who was shooting at them, couldn’t see anything except a shining blur where the ground should be due to the sun’s glare. The only thing keeping him alive was the fact that Hien had been trained as a General’s personal mount, ridden into battle a hundred times, and knew how to react when projectiles threatened his passenger.

Hien dove under a could bank, low enough that Taiki could see his attackers, and his blood turned chill. There was a massive sea of people winding their way along the pass road, more than he’d ever seen in one place since the coronation, or on the Festival of Glowing Fields. Or back home on the news, he supposed, but those memories were fading more and more every day.

One arrow got lucky, grazing just the side of Hien’s flank. It was a tiny wound, hardly an inconvience to the tenba, but Taiki’s stomach roiled. His vision swam, and his hands clutched in spasms at Hien’s fur to no avail.

The wind rushed by him faster now, but there was no warm Kiyju between his legs, no soft fur under his hands, and he wasn’t traveling  _forward_  any longer.

There was a moment of panic when he realized he wasn’t going to stop, nothing was going to keep him from hitting the ground.

Then, the impact.

Then darkness.


	12. Chapter 12

“Put him in with the others.”

“He seems fine. Don’t know why he’s still unconscious.”

“Think he’ll be any trouble? He was riding a pretty fine Tenba. They don’t work too well for anyone that doesn’t catch them personally.”

“I don’t know, he looks pretty small to be catching his own Kiyju. And he’s got no weapons. Kid’s pretty light, too.”

“Get one of the men to carry him.”

Taiki fumbled his way back to wakefulness, wincing at the pain in his...well, in everything. His back was a long ache, his head pounded, and the tang of blood in his nose was overwhelmingly rank.

Strong arms lifted him, and carried him along at a slow pace. Voices drifted in and out of his ears. Something cold fastened around his wrists and neck. Thankfully, a wet cloth dabbed at what felt like the worst of his wounds, a deep cut in his thigh. The smell ebbed after that, and his vision started to clear.

The man carrying him was large, blunt-looking, with dark eyes. He looked down when Taiki stirred. “Can you walk, kid?”

Taiki nodded. “I think so.” He looked around, and his heart sank.

 _Slavery._

In  _Tai._

He clambered to his feet, but the man kept a hand on his shoulder until he was steady. They walked at a slow, even pace, heading up the broad flat roads that were so much better cared for than the mountain paths he’d been getting used to. “What is this? Why did those people shoot at me?”

“Tenbas are valuable,” the man grunted. “So are humans. Come on.”

Taiki fell into step, trying to ignore the feeling that this was  _his_ fault, he’d done this by disappearing. For a second, he contemplated just giving up. He could turn himself in, or live as a slave, or submit to any false justice that was coming for him, because continuing to try was showing him more horrors than he could have imagined.

But no. Anything,  _anything_  was better than going back. He owed it to Risai, and to the people of Tai, to keep going. There was still the mine in Bun province to investigate, after all.

“Where are we going?” he asked, flexing his hands. The chains weren’t so tight or heavy that they restricted the flow of blood to his hands, but having them on was disturbing.

“North. There’s a public works project up in Rou Province that has a bunch of jobs.”

“Jobs? Then…” Taiki furrowed his brows and rattled his cuffs. The big man wore them as well, and shrugged.

“They say it’s to keep riots from breaking out over food. You sign on for the job, you sign on for the cuffs. Worth it.”

“Is it?”

“To keep from starving?” The man looked surprised. “Course it is. Then again, I bet you’ve got plenty of money. You were riding that Tenba, right?”

“Hien! Where is he? Is he all right? Did—“

“No idea. They took him away.”

The pang of loss at that news cut deeper than Taiki expected. He dashed the heel of his hand across his eyes, trying to conceal his tears, but the clanking of the cuffs only made it more obvious.

They walked for hours, trudging wearily through the mountain winds, funneled by the mountains and sharpened by gyouko deposits, blisteringly cold by the time it reached the travelers.

By the time they stopped for nightfall, Taiki was nearly asleep on his feet. He ached all over, and hadn’t slept more than a couple harried minutes. The loss of Hien, so soon after the separation from Risai, was a crushing blow to his spirits. When a measley portion of bread and gruel was handed around, Taiki nibbled on his roll and passed the gruel to the man who’d carried him. “What’s your name?” he asked, hoping the gift of food would set the man at ease.

If anything, the man looked suspicious at that, but answered nonetheless. “Riyutsu. You?”

“Kouri,” Taiki said softly, without thinking about it. He’d intended to give his Hourai name. It might have identified him as a Kaikyaku, but at least he’d have been safe.

Riyutsu didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. He just nodded his thanks for the gruel, then went back to eating. He leaned forward, reaching towards the fire.

And across the fire, Taiki saw him.

He was eating his own roll of bread, using it to mop up the gruel. His hair was back in a tight tail, pulled severely away from his face, and he wore the same drab, serviceable clothing as the rest of the travelers. In the firelight, his eyes glowed red.

Taiki dropped the half of a roll he still held, oblivious as someone nearby snatched it up. Some part of him warned that he shouldn’t be obvious, shouldn’t just throw him at the man he’d been searching for for what seemed like decades.

That part of his mind didn’t bear listening to.

He cleared the area around the fire in four steps. His legs were weak from recent exertion, and his knees buckled when he got there, which was only fitting. Taiki fell to his knees, breathless, trembling, and whispered, “Master?”

The man turned to him, and Taiki flinched away so hard he nearly fell in the fire. His master’s crimson eyes, which always blazed so brightly with passion and commitment, were…empty.

They stared right through him.

“Master?” Taiki asked again, this time with fear in his voice. “Lord Gyousou?”

The man said nothing. He took another bite of bread, looking back down at his food.

 _Maybe he doesn_ _’_ _t remember me. Maybe he doesn_ _’_ _t recognize me._ “It’s me,” he said, darting nervous looks around to see if anyone could overhear him. “Master Gyousou, it’s Kouri.”

“I am pleased to meet you,” the man said mechanically. There was no warmth in his tone, no recognition. He seemed…smaller, than the last time Taiki had seen him. Perhaps that was because Taiki was so much taller, but Taiki didn’t think so.

His throat tightened. This couldn’t be. He couldn’t have, he  _didn_ _’_ _t_  come so far to find an empty husk of a man. Gyousou  _had_  to be in there. He must have been sick, or injured, or perhaps trying to fool his enemies.

“If you need me to play along,” he said carefully, trying to keep his voice from shaking, “You only have to say the word. I…I’m sorry I’m not what I was.”

Taiki had never been more certain that he was no longer a true kirin.

Because even kneeling at Gyousou’s side, he felt nothing. Emotionally, he was a mess, but that didn’t touch the searing, aching, prickling feeling he’d always had before when near Gyousou, as if he’d been enveloped in non-consuming flames.

He fought down the urge to rest his cheek on Gyousou’s leg, or to prostrate himself on the ground in front of everyone. It was an emotional urge only. It wasn’t the anxious, necessary pull it used to be. It was as if Gyousou was just any man; not the king, not  _his_  king.

Devoid of emotion, Gyousou extended a hand with half a bread roll inside. “Would you like this food?”

Taiki shook his head, then tucked his chin behind his knees. “I’m not hungry.”


	13. Chapter 13

Nijiuu, Risai discovered, moved  _fast_. Her legs ached from the strain of running, and the awkwardness in her balance sent her reeling more than once. The Nijiuu tracked them as if they were scent hounds, albeit scent hounds seven feet long with panther’s claws and broad, powerful haunches.

She wanted to shout at Yousan, blame him for not being more helpful, but he was the one who’d given them a headstart. It wouldn’t be enough, she was dead certain. As soon as one fast creature caught up to them, they’d have to stand and fight the whole lot of them. And they would die.

Yousan grabbed her arm, yanked her abruptly sideways into a small depression in the ground. “Hurry, this way. It’s a cave I explored as a boy.”

Risai swallowed her apprehension. She wasn’t fond of caves anymore. Still, a cave was better than an army of Nijiuu, unless she was unlucky enough to attract  _another_  Toutetsu. The thought was so ridiculous that she laughed a little, though she quickly stifled the sound lest it come out hysterical.

“We aren’t equipped for cave exploring,” she pointed out, drawing an inch or so of her sword. “We have no torches, no rope, no tracking equipment.”

“Why would you need any of those? You’ve got me.”

“I had you when you led me and my friend down that little ‘shortcut’ last week, too.”

Yousan paused, then sniffed the air. “This way. Taiki’s this way.”

 _You are playing a game with me, old man_.  _I_ _’_ _m on to you. I don_ _’_ _t trust you, and nothing you say will change that._

A Nijiuu howled from behind, and Risai hastened forward. Anything was better than going back, after all.

“Walk carefully, Yousan warned, then abruptly tripped and slid into the cave wall. He straightened up, then immediately slipped again. “You don’t have magic to give yourself cat’s eyes like I do.”

 _I don't trust you. You aren't funny, and you're not taking me in._

Risai banged her ankle hard against a rock, and was forced to sheathe her sword to feel her way along the wall. The cave was rough, and probably would sparkle with gems in any light. In the darkness, it just cut her fingers every time she pressed too hard.

At least the ground was solid, beautifully so after the slippery rocks of the mountain. It was slightly damp, and Risai’s boots sunk into it, which made her wince. If anyone was tracking them, they’d have an easy time.

She sucked her fingers to her mouth hurriedly, then relaxed. Taiki wasn’t with them. She didn’t have to constantly worry about every tiny cut and scrape, knowing that it would incapacitate him. She spared a brief prayer to a god she didn’t really believe in, and continued through the cave.

The nature of the tunnels was strange, absorbing and reflecting light at the same time. It was such that Risai didn’t see the hundreds of torches arranged in formation until she’d stumbled into the first soldier.


	14. Chapter 14

Taiki had noticed the walk before, how it blistered his feet and made his knees ache. Now he didn’t. He noticed nothing except the face of the man next to him, angular and harsh and somehow foreign, despite being as familiar as his own. He longed to talk to Sanshi, to feel her arms around him, to feel her stroke his hair and nuzzle into his face, but it was impossible to summon her in the middle of so many people

As they walked, he whispered to Gyousou. He spoke quietly of what had happened to him, where he’d been, why he hadn’t returned. He told him of what he remembered, and his life in Hourai. Despite the fact that nothing he said garnered a single eyeblink of reaction, Taiki kept speaking, desperate to make a difference.

He could feel Riyutsu watching him. He didn’t care.

During his second week living on bread and gruel, the gang of workers reached a still clear lake, one of the mountain spring lakes that filtered down through miles of gems, still sparkling at the bottom. The drivers unclasped the manacles of each man, lending credence to what Riyutsu had said about the cuffs being only to keep food riots from breaking out. Then, they herded the workers into the water, regardless of the cold. “You’ll be arriving in the capitol in three days,” said the man who appeared to be in charge. “This is your last chance to wash the stink of the south off of you.”

Taiki submerged himself gratefully, letting grime and dust and worry slip away. His clothes would be wet later, would drip down into his boots, but at least they would be clean. He lay back, floating in the water for a moment.

 _Kouri._

Taiki choked on a mouthful of water, sputtering and coughing as he thrashed upright. The voice was stronger now, more clear than it had been before. Taiki made up his mind, and grabbed Gyousou’s arm. “Come with me,” he said, and took off across the water.

He heard shouts from behind him, and didn’t care. They started to shoot, and Taiki ran faster. He’d known they were lying about the cuffs being for the workers’ own safety. No one shot at escaping employees.

He knew,  _knew_  where the voice was coming from now. He could feel it, sending his nerves tingling. He ran, and ran, and fortunately the man he’d grabbed was putting up no resistance, running alongside him, face as blank and emotionless as ever.

 _Kouri, are you there?_

“I’m here, Master,” Taiki panted, and summoned Gouran with a thought. He was there, as a monstrous wolf large enough to carry two people, and took off faster than Taiki could run on his own, heading unerringly for  _that place_  in Taiki’s mind. “I’m coming.”

Gouran’s muscles bunched, and he cleared small hills with powerful leaps. He covered more ground by running than many Kiyju did in flight, but it wasn’t fast enough for Taiki. Gems sparkled in his vision, blinding him, pain concentrating in his forehead, and he clapped his hands to it. “No, no, no,” he whispered, focusing on the voice, trying to block out the pain. That was what had happened last time, and he  _wouldn_ _’_ _t_  let it happen again. He gritted his teeth, but the pain was so bad tears burned his eyes, leaving hot trails down his cheeks.

He wouldn’t give up.

He wouldn’t lose focus even for a second, even for a moment.

Gouran sensed his urgency, and increased his speed until the shining country was a shining blur.

 _Kouri_.

“I’m coming, Master.”

He needed to go  _faster_ , needed to be what he was born to be, needed to  _fly_  to his master’s side, the swiftest creature in the world. If he lost Gyousou now, after all this, it would be his fault. His, for not being the kirin Tai needed. His, for letting his master down again.

Back then, he’d been an ignorant child, and had done only what he’d been told.

Now he would do what he knew was right.

The man behind him didn’t ask questions, didn’t raise alarm. He didn’t say anything, just as he hadn’t said anything except the most mundane of pleasantries in the last week.

An eerie noise echoed through the air. For a distracted, wild moment, Taiki thought it was a hunting horn, and hunched further over Gouran’s back. Then, he recognized the hunting cry of hungry Youma.

They chased him by air, drawn by the energy of such a large shirei. Gouran turned and snapped at the closest one, a massive hawk-like creature with talons nearly a foot long. He grew extra teeth just for the occasion, and the youma retreated with a shriek.

The voice was growing fainter again—not moving, not retreating, but fading. “No,” Taiki whispered. “No, you can’t.”

He launched himself off Gouran’s back just as another hawk-like youma came down, and Gouran nipped off its head. The man tumbled off of his back as well, and Taiki grabbed his arm again. “Fast,” he panted. “Run as fast as you can. And then run faster.”

Pain shot through him, but it didn’t matter. His feet felt like they were going to fall off, but that didn’t matter. He was close, so close, and something was wrong, something was different, but then it was  _over_.

He collapsed onto his face, falling down onto cold, dark earth.

He lay there for long minutes, trying to catch his breath, wheezing, gasping, inhaling gem dust and dirt. The air felt different, stifled somehow. When he opened his eyes, he realized he was underground.

He climbed to his feet, slow, shaky, as if he’d been stretched and hammered all over. Smooth, warm hands helped him up, combed his hair back with sharp fingernails.

Taiki relaxed gratefully into Sanshi’s touch. “What happened?” he asked. His head pounded, and there was no sign of what he’d come to think of as Gyousou’s body.

“Leg up,” she said, and he lifted his leg, then the other as she dressed him. “You tried to transform,” she explained gently, straightening the rough peasant clothes he’d been wearing for travel.

“Did I?”

“I do not know. I couldn’t catch up to you, though.” She smiled, then kissed his forehead. “Whether you ever transform in your life again, you’ll always be my Taiki.”

He embraced her, strong and grateful and apologetic for all the times he hadn’t known she was there. He couldn’t blame her or Gouran for killing his family. They hadn’t known what they were doing. “Is he here, Sanshi?”

“I do not know.”

The dark had never bothered Taiki. He set off into the tunnels, picking his way down and down and down. With every step, he grew more certain.

His Master was close.


	15. Chapter 15

A dozen swords pointed at Risai’s throat, backing her up against a wall. The torchlight blazed in her vision after so long in the dark, and her eyes watered.

“Who are you?” A deep voice rang out in the cave, and a single figure stalked forward, silhouetted in torchlight.

Risai swallowed. She had to stay alive, had to keep going, for Tai’s sake. “I’m a traveler. I was lost in these caves—“

“You carry a sword. Too nice for a common traveler.”

At the narrowing of the man’s eyes, the swords moved forward until one was pressed against the skin of her throat.

“Are you loyal to King Asen?”

The question dropped into Risai like a stone into a pool. She should swear loyalty to a false king. She was no Kirin, to be forced to kneel only to the true and proper king. She should swear her fealty, and live another day to fight the tyrant.

But she couldn’t.

Every time someone swore loyalty to the traitor, Tai was further damned. Risai hadn’t lost an arm and a life to escape the treachery only to save her own skin.

She thought for a brief moment of Kaei, and a smile ghosted across her lips. “No.”


	16. Chapter 16

_Kouri_.

The voice was all around him now, filling him, making his skin feel tight and hot and  _right_. Taiki’s feet never faltered, leading him unerringly down tunnel after tunnel, what must surely be several miles under the earth.

If the water from the skysea fell down when it rained, he wondered absently, what was under the earth? Another sky? Another world entire, with different gods and rules and Kings?

Then, it stopped.

His breath came short, because every sense he had told him he was  _here_. Blinking in the dim light, he saw that he was in a small chamber, dark and quiet, pure dirt instead of gem-studded rock.

 _Kouri_ , said the voice in his mind.  _Find the crystal._

He had to find the crystal. He hunted for it, unsure what he was looking for, falling to his hands and knees and feeling around. His fingers brushed something hard and cold, and he seized the little stone. It was the size of a large marble, or a melon ball, and faceted beneath his fingertips.

 _Smash it._

“How?”

 _You must_.

If only he had hooves, smashing the crystal would be the work of a moment. He ran from the room, searching for a dislodged piece of gemstone, a fallen rock, anything. He was mildly surprised to see that fallen loose rocks were  _everywhere_ , and yet he hadn’t tripped or fallen at all on his way inside.

He grabbed a rock, a smooth grey rock with no jagged edges, laid the crystal carefully on the ground, and smashed down.

The crystal cracked; it didn’t shatter, as he’d expected (or more likely, bounce away unharmed), but cracked neatly in two halves, which fell apart like the shell of an egg. Inside, there was a small, diamond-hard black stone. He picked it up, but the second it touched his fingers, it vanished.

So did the voice.

“Master?” Taiki asked, confused. “Did I do something wrong?”

No answer.

The tunnels were completely silent. His voice didn’t even echo, and the buzzing, tingling feeling that had been driving him forward was nothing but a void.

The voice was gone.

Taiki laid his trembling hands on his knees. “I’m sorry,” he said aloud, knowing he was truly alone. “I couldn’t help. I couldn’t do anything. I failed to keep my promise. I failed you. I’m not even a real kirin.”

“Kouri.”

Taiki froze.

Heavy footsteps crunched on gravel as someone walked up behind him.

Slowly, Taiki turned.

He didn’t make it to his feet. Gyousou— _his_  Gyousou, his master, his lord, his king, with blazing warmth in his crimson eyes—was falling to his knees, embracing him. Taiki could have sworn that the gems in the walls lit up, glowing with reflected fire.

Taiki had never felt so safe as when he was in Gyousou’s arms.

He wasn’t sure if he was laughing, crying, or just shaking, but Gyousou was steady against him, one arm holding him tight, the other hand possessively on his hair. He was saying his name over and over, stroking his hair, and Taiki clung to him as if it had been a hundred years instead of six.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, awkwardly kneeling in the most important embrace of Taiki’s life. By the time Gyousou finally pulled back—just far enough to brush the hair out of Taiki’s face—his legs were cramped and tired.

There was an uncertainty, a hesitation in Gyousou’s expression that Taiki had never seen before. There was even, he thought in surprise, a little guilt. He held up a hand when his Master opened his mouth. “We…I have so much to say.”

“I as well. And—“

“I didn’t want to leave you,” Taiki blurted out, suddenly terrified that Gyousou would name him for the failure he was, would cast him out. All the feelings of worthlessness, of shame from when he believed he’d chosen the wrong king came flooding back, and he bowed his head. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you needed me and I wasn’t here and I’m sorry—“

Gyousou pressed his lips to Taiki’s forehead in a benediction. “I’ve been…” he swallowed hard, looking away. “…very worried. We should leave. I’ll tell you what happened on the way.”

“The way?”

“To the Palace.” Gyousou’s voice hardened, eyes narrow, and he looked every inch the fierce warrior Taiki first met on Mount Hou. “I have some words to speak to Asen.”

“And I…”

“At my side.” Gyousou scooped up the halves of the crystal from the ground, tucking them into his belt pouch. Then, he wrapped one arm around Taiki, crushing him to his chest. “As you should have been all along. As you will always be.”

Transformation or not, Taiki was suddenly convinced he could fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accompanying artwork for this scene: http://oi44.tinypic.com/ly4ow.jpg


	17. Chapter 17

“…and that’s when En-Ou found me,” Taiki concluded. “He crossed over to get me, and pulled me out of the shoku. The Queen Mother of the West cleansed me and my shirei, and then I recovered in Kei with Lady Risai. The rest I’ve told you.”

Gyousou smiled, lit by the flickering glow of the campfire. Taiki knew, without a doubt, that he was also thinking of the first time they’d camped together. “Your hair is so short.”

“My mother cut it. She didn’t like it long.”

“It makes you look very different. Older.”

Taiki smiled, ducking his head. “I am older, Master Gyousou. You can’t really blame the haircut for that.”

Gyousou reached over and brushed the hair out of Taiki’s face, brushing his thumb over that  _one spot_  on his forehead that always made him flinch when anyone else touched him there. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

Taiki shook his head. “No. Not right now. When you were calling me, it did.”

“I am sorry to have caused you pain.”

Taiki rested his head on Gyousou’s shoulder. It should have been different, strange now that they were both men rather than a soldier and a little boy. It wasn’t. He’d always been safe in the arms of his King. “How did you call me? I’ve always been able to sense you, but not like this.”

Gyousou raised an eyebrow. “You’ve always been able to sense me?”

“A little. It was stronger back when I was a real kir—“

“Hush. You’re a real kirin. You are the hopes and dreams of our people, Kouri. Don’t ever doubt that. It takes a million wishes to create a creature as special as you.”

Taiki’s face burned, and not just from the fire’s heat.

“This,” Gyousou explained, pulling out the two halves of the crystal, “is the treasure of Imperial Tai. It houses a person’s soul for some time, until released by a magical creature.”

“Just kirin?”

“Any youma or kiyju would do, according to the scrolls I found. But a kirin seemed like my best bet,” he said, smiling.

“But why did you use it in the first place?” Taiki asked, brow furrowed. He didn’t want to say it, but it  _sounded_  like running away from a fight, which was as unlike his master as he could imagine.

“Ah.” Gyousou shifted, uncomfortable and tense. “I was deceived.”

“By Asen.”

Gyousou looked at him sharply. “Asen is not the only traitor, nor was he ever. One man does not make a rebellion.”

Taiki ducked his head, chastised. “Yes, Master Gyousou.”

Gyousou was silent for a long period, and Taiki only realized when his eyelids were too heavy to open that the conversation had ended. He wanted to ask more questions, to ask what they were going to do now that they were together again.

The very idea that yes, they were finally  _together_  again relaxed him so thoroughly that he didn’t even notice himself slipping into sleep, head pillowed on Gyousou’s shoulder.


	18. Chapter 18

“Tell me again how the Queen of Kei took back her throne.”

Taiki dutifully repeated what he’d learned in Kei, from Keiki and the others. The Queen had sought the help of En-Ou, who had loaned her his army. She’d revealed herself with Keiki as the true Queen of Kei, and her armies had driven out those loyal to the false Queen.

“But no one really believes in Asen,” he said. “And I can’t transform, so we can’t just prove that he’s stolen the throne.”

“No, Kouri. He hasn’t won the people. You feel well, don’t you?”

Taiki beamed. “Now that I’m back with you.”

“Good. I had worried that my absence would cause you to fall ill.”

Taiki swallowed, feeling the familiar guilt descend on him. “Maybe it should. It might just be that I’m not feeling ill because I’m not a proper kirin.”

Gyousou stopped him, broad hands grasping his shoulders tightly. “You’ve said this to me before,” he said, red eyes holding Taiki’s own. “You called yourself inferior, unworthy.”

“But then I figured out how to tra—“

“Were you unworthy when you tamed the Toutetsu?” Gyousou asked. “Were you inferior when you saved our lives, and recognized my Ouki during the Shouzan? You were born a kirin. I would not stop being a man if my hands were severed. You will always be a kirin.”

Taiki’s voice was soft as he said, “Master Gyousou thinks he knows better than the gods?” It was a gentle rebuke, but a rebuke nonetheless.

Gyousou opened his mouth, then closed it. Then, he smiled. “When it comes to you, perhaps. Who can know a kirin better than his king? We are connected, you and I. I was a fool before, blind to how much.”

Gyousou’s gaze was intense, a thing of fire and steel. Taiki didn’t flinch.

They would walk through the fire side by side.


	19. Chapter 19

The first whispers reached them when they stopped for the night in a small village. They’d been surviving by living off the country, far easier with Gyousou’s skills added to his own, but water was scarce in this area. Taiki worried for a moment about their identities, but Gyousou laughed. “A ragged vagabond and his son,” he explained. “I look little like a king, I think.”

He looked like a king to Taiki.

They ate, drank, and slept at the house of a kind older woman, who tucked Taiki in as if he were her own son and baked a special thick traveling cake late into the night. Before sunrise, Taiki awoke to hear her arguing passionately with someone else.

“I’ve told you, it’s folly!”

“I don’t care! I’m going whether you want me to or not!”

“And I mean nothing to you? You and your sisters are my only support in my age.”

“Don’t be like that, Mother,” the young woman’s voice said, exasperated. “I won’t die. And if I do, it’ll be for the proper cause.”

“You’re throwing your life away! What will I do—“

The conversation ended abruptly when the door slammed, and Taiki sat up in bed. “Your daughter?” he asked, seeing Gyousou’s eyes crack open.

Their host nodded, tearful. “She fancies herself a soldier, bless her stupid heart. Excuse me, I’m going to go ask the priest to pray for her safe return.”

It wasn’t the last they heard of the “cause.” Gyousou stopped a band of twelve or so people on the road the next day, all of whom were armed. “Friend,” he said, though his expression was anything but friendly, “where do you ride in such haste?”

The leaders, a man and an older woman, exchanged a glance. “You ride the other way,” the woman pointed out. “We have nothing to say to those who travel that direction.”

“Why, if they are but ignorant of what awaits them in the South?” Gyousou countered. “Perhaps they would turn and join.”

“We need no others but those who are committed!” said the young man, eyes alight with passion.

Taiki laid a hand on Gyousou’s arm, seeing his eyes darken. “Then we wish you a safe journey,” he said quickly.

Gyousou was tense under his hand, but nodded shortly. “Speedy winds to you.”

They spent the night under a riboku. Fat ranka hung like ripe fruits overhead, lending an odd tranquility to the evening air. Taiki pillowed his head on his arm, nodding off to sleep.

Gyousou picked at the fire with a stick. “Tonight should be the Festival of Glowing Fields,” he said, staring at the flames. “I’m surprised Tentei hasn’t struck me down already. I’ve done little good to Tai.”

He paused for a moment, then continued. “I truly believed I was capable of becoming a great king, Kouri. In my heart, I thought I was already great, and the blessing of the kirin would vindicate my hard work. I thought I had earned the right to be a king by disciplining myself, by showing that I could lead the armies of Tai into battle. I thought when you chose me that it meant I had been right all along.”

Some of the tension went out of his spine, and he drooped an inch or two. It was the closest thing to a slump Taiki had ever seen in him. “I was a fool, a blind fool. I spoke when I should have listened, and acted when I should have deliberated. For my ignorance—no, that is too kind a word. For my willful pride, my people have suffered.”

Taiki kept silent, watching, listening. It was in his nature to tell the man that no, he’d done what he could, he’d had the best interests of the people at heart. But for some reason, he didn’t.

“Tonight, every surface in Tai should be covered with candles and brass. Every gyouko deposit should be lit up and glistening. People should be trekking to the water to burn their fears from the old year. But it’s silent. No one is celebrating. And it’s because of me. I trusted whom I should not, and it’s only because of you that I even know how wrong I was.”

He moved, placing one broad, calloused hand on Taiki’s head, resting it there. “We will make it right, Kouri. Together. I gave you a name that means rebirth from the darkest abyss. If you will stand by me for long centuries, I will never stop working to make it right.”

Taiki met his eyes, and nodded once.

Nothing else had to be said.


	20. Chapter 20

  
**  
Two Months Later   
**   


  
_  
**  
**   
_   


Takishou scratched his ear, shifting nervously. “It’s just gossip, right?”

“Just gossip,” Eri replied placidly.

“They’re not really going to do it tonight, are they?”

“No reason they should.”

“I heard there’s never any reason. I heard they just start doing it around midnight.”

“Gossip like that’ll get you killed around here. Don’t you remember how you got the job in the first place?”

Takishou couldn’t deny that he wasn’t _exactly_ next-in-line to be head of the Palace’s stables, but he didn’t think it was very kind of Eri to point that out. “Like you’ve been working here that much longer than me,” he grumbled. “Don’t know how you even got the job in the first place.”

She turned, fixing him with a glare. “You’ve got something to say about how I do my job?”

“No, no,” he said quickly, backing down. Whatever she was lacking in other areas, she certainly made up for in a right hook. 

He watched the clock anxiously, waiting for midnight, waiting for the moment gossip said _it_ would happen. 

Eri stood still.

The clock ticked, and hit midnight.

Every beast in the stable looked up, as if waiting for something. Then, all at once, they let out an eerie, mournful howl.

Takishou gave up and ran for it, screaming about demons and curses. Eri, on the other hand, let out a chuckle and chucked one of the suguu under the chin. It kept howling, but the eyes fixed on hers. “That’s enough,” she called, and the noise stopped.

“That was the last one,” she reported, rotating her shoulder with a sigh of relief. “One of our people is next. That’ll be the kitchens, the stables, the cleaners, and the launderers, all our people. Then we’ll be ready for the King.”

“Yes, Gener—I mean, Captain.”

Risai gave the young man a glare after he popped up. “A slip of the tongue costs a life,” she reminded him. 

“Yes, Captain.”

That brought a swell of pride as unexpected as it was welcome. She’d never thought to command again. She certainly hadn’t thought that publicly disavowing her allegiance to Asen would have led to this.

But looking at the determined, eager faces of the young men and women who now served under her, she couldn’t help but be proud--not of herself, but of Tai. Not everyone had cowed to authority. Not everyone had accepted Asen’s version of the truth. Not everyone had abandoned the true king and his kirin.

Being able to give them hope, in a dank cold cave in Eastern Tai, had been one of the best moments of Risai’s life. Better still, the little army led by Captain Watane and now Risai, was made up of, by and large, intelligent young people. They understood what was at stake, and kept on their toes for the most part.

Waiting for the King.


	21. Chapter 21

Taiki expected to be stopped. He expected guards everywhere around the palace he once called home, maybe fiery moats, or rivers of corpses. He’d heard stories from Enki about the devastation in En before Shouryuu was chosen for the throne. Even if his instincts told him it wasn’t nearly that bad, the destruction Asen had wrought was still nearly as bad as what Kyou-Ou had left before his death.

Despite lacking obvious trappings of insanity like men’s heads on spikes, Taiki had been dizzy for days. The scent of blood was in his nose, thick, pervasive, and there was no amount of sneezing that would rid him of it. One morning, they passed through what had clearly been a battlefield. Gyousou had had to carry him.

And now Hakkei Palace rose in front of them, white and sparkling and as pure as ever. Taiki stopped walking and stared up at it, feeling Gyousou do the same next to him. “When he falls,” Taiki said softly, just in case anyone was nearby, “no one will know. The hakuchi will not cry. No king will have fallen, or been enthroned. We aren’t being sanctioned by heaven to do this.”

“We already have been.” Gyousou’s hand was warm and firm on his shoulder, his eyes fixed in determination. “The fact that you’re here with me is my sanction, my vindication.”

Taiki didn’t feel like a vindication. But he had to believe. If he didn’t, if he wasn’t absolutely confident, he could lead them into another crisis.

He’d expected some grand plan, some concentrated attack that involved raising the peasants and besieging the castle. Gyousou hadn’t agreed, and Taiki was grateful. The loss of life, the King had decided, would be too extreme. That is, if the plan had worked; there truly wasn’t anyone they could trust. Any army they raised, Gyousou pointed out, would be as suspect as Asen. He had had control of the country for years.

 _And look where it got him._

“Chop off the snake’s head.”

Taiki looked up at his master, stern and resolute. That was the face of a man who had banished musicians from the palace, had stripped it to its bare bones and declared it beautiful. It was the face of a man who wouldn’t stop until he had what was rightfully his--and ruled it well. _I’ll be better this time. I’ll stop him this time._

There was something amiss with the security on the gate. They had false papers, purchased from a supplier of such several towns back, but Taiki had never expected them to work. Instead of checking thoroughly, the stony-faced guards waved them in.

The hair on the back of Taiki’s neck prickled, and he tugged at Gyousou’s sleeve. Gyousou, however, needed no prompting. His eyes were trained on the guard as they entered the Palace, ostensibly to retrieve a Suguu for transport. “Master,” Taiki said quietly.

Gyoushou shushed him. _I know_ , his eyes said. _I’m watching him._

The stables were worse. Taiki had expected _more_ security, not less. Everything about the Palace _felt_ wrong. 

It felt like a trap.

Gyousou paced along the rows of captive Kiyju, checking them as if for quality. Taiki knew without asking that Keito had not survived the attack on his master that had left him trapped in the crystal treasure. Perhaps someday, he would accompany Gyousou on a true Suguu hunt.

All at once, the suguu threw back their heads and started to howl. Gyousou froze, hand going automatically to the sword at his side. Taiki, however, picked out another sound in the midst of the clamor. “It’s a whistle,” he said, cocking his head. “Someone’s blowing a whistle.”

Abruptly, the noise stopped. A young man in palace clothes scrambled down from the hayloft, bearing a crossbow that was certainly not regulation during the days of Gyousou’s reign. They locked eyes, Taiki and the young man, facing each other down. For some strange reason, it reminded Taiki of taming Gouran. Which reminded him.

“Gouran.”

The shadows at his feet expanded, and the bolt went wide as Gouran leaped for the young man. “Don’t kill him,” Taiki warned, but he need not. Gouran only tackled him, pinning him down with no hope of rising again. 

Gyousou moved about his business, releasing the catches on the suguu cages as he’d planned, while Taiki climbed up to the hayloft. “Why did you shoot at me?” he asked.

The young man licked his lips, staring between Gouran and Taiki. “M-my job. Supposed to keep the Kiyju safe.”

“You didn’t check our papers. Why not?”

“Kouri,” Gyousou called, frowning at one placard. “Something’s amiss. None of the Kiyju are properly catalogued. Not one.”

“K-Kouri?”

Taiki frowned. “Why--”

The young man tried to move, but Gouran stopped him. “I’m sorry! My lord, I’m sorry!”

He looked from Taiki to Gyousou, then back again, his eyes wide as saucers. “It’s you, isn’t it? It’s truly you?”

Taiki winced. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to swear your silence. I can’t possibly let you go, knowing--”

“My lord, you don’t understand. We’re waiting for you. For you, your Majesty,” he called down to Gyousou, still trying to get free of Gouran. “We’ve been waiting for weeks. The Captain has left instructions--”

“Captain?” Gyousou asked sharply. “Who?”

He licked his lips, nervous. “She said you’d know her, my lord,” he said to Taiki, “if I told you that she should have listened to you in the cave.”

Taiki’s heart swelled. “Master! It’s Risai! She’s here! Where?” he demanded of the man, calling Gouran off. “Take me to her, please.”

He heard Gyousou behind him, warning him not to trust so easily, trying to pull him back, but he’d already caught a glimpse of dark red hair and a palace uniform. She’d barely turned around before Taiki hit her around the waist, squeezing the breath out of her lungs. She was laughing, holding him harder with one arm than he could manage with two. He wasn’t sure who to thank, the gods of his family or of his _real_ home, so he just buried his face in her shoulder and held her more tightly.

Then she released him to fall to her knees as Gyousou came around the corner. He caught her, embraced her just as tightly. Taiki couldn’t hear the words they said, but he heard his own name at least once.

“Majesty,” Risai said, back in a more proper place, “we’ve been ready.”


	22. Chapter 22

Everything moved so fast after that. At one of those nearly-inaudible whistles, the suguus let out their eerie howl again. When it stopped, the Palace was _full_. Servants poured out of every doorway, alert, ready, eager. 

“I don’t understand,” Taiki said to Gyousou as they ran up the stairs to the throne room. “Where are all of Asen’s men? Where are all the people who are loyal to him?”

“Left. A week ago,” Risai explained. She carried a borrowed sword, having given hers to Gyousou to replace the one he’d bought from a merchant on the way to the Palace. “There was an uprising down south, large enough that he sent all his men to deal with it.”

Taiki and Gyousou exchanged a look. “Everyone we met was going south,” he said, starting to understand. “To fight you?”

“To join us!” an older man called, grinning as he kicked at the throne room door. “Seems someone’s started a rumor about the King coming back. I heard he was down south.”

“Yeah, I heard the same,” another chimed in.

Taiki beamed. “So you lured his men out with a false rebellion--”

“No, my lord.” Risai’s eyes sparkled hard and cold like the gems lining the palace walls. “There is a true rebellion. If it is successful, all those loyal to Asen will be wiped out.” She wiped the hair out of her face. “And it will be no more than they deserve.”

Taiki fidgeted, and Gyouko took hold of his shoulders. “Kouri, wait out here. I’ll deal with Asen myself.”

Taiki swallowed hard. “You said I could be always by your side, Master.”

“There will be killing. Blood. Mine, if not his.” Gyousou’s jaw was set, his eyes flashing. “Just wait here. This won’t take long.”

Taiki’s heart pounded.

The doors cracked.

They exploded inward, showering fragments of wood everywhere.

Gyousou strolled through.

Taiki bit his lip nearly through, straining to hear anything, any slight sound that would tell him what was happening. Was Gyousou alive? Was he on the throne again? Was Asen bleeding? Could Taiki save him? Was that metal scraping he heard?

A sound rang out, metal clanging against metal, and then a grunt of pain.

The image flashed into Taiki’s mind of Gyousou, his master, his beloved master that he’d only _just_ gotten back, lying in a spreading pool of his own blood.

 _NO._

 _Never again._

Taiki ran, threading his way through the armed men and women, into the room he’d once known as well as his own bedroom.

Sparks flew as Gyousou and Asen battled, swords striking deadly-sharp against each other faster than Taiki’s eye could see. The two men moved so quickly that he couldn’t even summon Gouran, for fear that he’d crash into Gyousou instead of Asen. It would have been beautiful if it hadn’t been so dangerous, if Taiki hadn’t been conscious that at any second, one of those bright-sharp swords could bite into his Master’s skin and end his life forever, _just_ when they’d found each other again.

He tried to follow the battle, tried to tell who was winning, but they were moving with a surpassing grace, as if in a dance instead of a battle. 

 _Was this what it looked like when Master Gyousou battled En-Ou? No, that was for sport. This is as serious as it can be._

His heart thundered with fear, and he _couldn’t_ do nothing. There was nothing he could do, but he _couldn’t_ do nothing.

 _Anything is better going back._

There was a swift flash, a gasp, and blood sprayed into the air. 

Gyousou stumbled back.

 _NO_.

Taiki wasn’t even aware of moving. He leapt with inhuman speed, throwing himself between the two duelists. It was stupid, there was nothing right or smart or _sane_ about it except the conviction that he could not, _would_ not, live without his master again.

He heard Gyousou’s shout, felt him try to push Taiki out of the way.

Saw the blade coming at his head.

There was a flash, blazing so bright Taiki couldn’t see for a moment, and he heard a scream--his own.

The blade had turned on his horn.

There was deadly silence for a moment, until Taiki caught a glimpse of his hide out of the corner of one eye. It didn’t matter that it didn’t make sense. 

What mattered was that Asen was still trying to hurt his master.

 _Never again._

Gouran leapt snarling from his shadow.

Taiki turned away, leaning down to nuzzle at Gyousou’s hair. He was breathing, eyes wide and shining, just as they had been the first time Taiki had transformed. Even the blood didn’t bother him as much as it should have, though it was _everywhere_.

He let Gyousou wrap his arms around his neck, helped him to stand. If Gyousou clung to him for a little longer than normal, well, no one could blame him. He ran one calloused hand along Taiki’s horn, feeling the long, slender protrusion. “Magnificent,” he said under his breath, heavy with awe. 

Taiki nudged him, ignoring the bloody mess Gouran was doing his best to clean up. He helped his master up the stairs, taking an absurd pride in the way he was able to help, for once.

When Gyousou sat on the throne again, Risai’s ragtag army burst into cheers loud enough to shake the walls.

He still heard Gyousou’s voice, ears perfectly attuned to his Master’s words. “Kouri. Thank you.”

They were together again, and everything was _right_. 

Taiki had never been so grateful to kneel in his life.


	23. Epilogue

The wind was cold, blowing fresh off the sea, sharpened on gyoku as it cut across the land of Tai. It rustled the gems in the springs, brought a sigh of freshness to those toiling in the mines, no matter how far down.

Taiki shivered and pulled his cloak more tightly about him. Then, another cloak swirled around his shoulders, warmed by someone else’s body heat.

“Don’t catch cold,” Gyousou warned, stroking a hand along Taiki’s mane. “The people need you well and whole.”

“I can’t catch cold, Master Gyousou,” Taiki responded with a smile. “Your virtue keeps me well.”

“Your compassion keeps me virtuous,” Gyousou countered, then wrapped an arm around him. “Shall we?”

Light spread softly from the valleys, reflected off gems and gyoku and ipeko and brass lamps. Though the wind was cold, it was moderate for mid-winter. A good, mild winter--that was what the Weather-workers had predicted. 

As one, Taiki and Gyousou pulled their hoods over their heads, hiding their features. They strolled along the valley as two more citizens of Tai, eyes lighting up when the scraps of worries caught fire at the lake’s edge.

A lock of Taiki’s hair drifted out of his hood, trailing along behind him as they walked, and brushed against the ground.

 

 

 _**The Festival of Glowing Fields, in the two-hundredth year of the reign of King Gyousou of Tai** _

 

 _**The End** _


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